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Splinters of Time

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Pieces of memories
Like double edged swords
Open old wounds
As well as remembrances
Of more pleasant times.
We own them all.
Our mistakes and successes
Are at memory's edge,
Ominous or endearing
Waiting to be recalled.
Memories are old road maps
Showing where we've been -
The dead ends and bright paths
We chose then
Direct our future now.

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Copyright © 1997-1998 Frances McCool